


Across the fields I see my shadow fly

by caranfindel



Series: My fills for Hurt!Sam prompts from the Oh Sam Community on LJ [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Hurt Sam Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, Sam Fucking Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-15
Updated: 2017-11-15
Packaged: 2019-01-31 07:41:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12677418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caranfindel/pseuds/caranfindel
Summary: Written for the 2015 Oh Sam Triple Play challenge on LJ for the following prompt:1) Coffee shop or Diner2) Employee of said establishment3) Gun shot woundSet during s11, when Amara is sucking down souls.





	Across the fields I see my shadow fly

It all happens so fast. One minute she's flirting with the lone customer in the coffee shop, a cute tall guy who ordered a latte to go, and trying to figure out if he's reading her nametag or looking down her shirt. The next minute, a creepy guy with flat, dead eyes is standing in the doorway, pointing a gun at her.

Tall Guy immediately moves in front of her, positioning himself between her and Dead Eyes. "Drop the gun," he says calmly.

 _It's a robbery,_ she tries to say, _just stand back and I'll open the register._ But all that comes out is a squeaky "robbery."

Tall Guy and Dead Eyes both shake their heads. "I don't care about the money," Dead Eyes tells her, eerily calm. "All I wanna do is blow your head off."

"You don't want to do that," says Tall Guy, just as calmly.

"No, I do," says Dead Eyes. "I've always wanted to. And now I finally can."

"Okay," says Tall Guy. "But it's gonna be me, not her." He extends his arms, palms facing out, like he's trying to make himself bigger, more of a shield. "Carrie?" he says, without looking away from Dead Eyes. "Is there a back door in the kitchen?" 

She nods, then realizes he can't see her. "Yes," she says, her throat almost too dry to make a sound.

"Get out of here," he says. "Go out the back door." But she can't move; she's frozen to the spot and she doesn't want to leave him. "Go," he barks, still maintaining eye contact with Dead Eyes. "Now." 

Carrie scurries into the kitchen, even opens the back door and lets it slam shut, but she doesn't leave. She hides behind the walk-in and peeks around the corner. He saved her, he made himself a fucking human shield and saved her, and she can't abandon him.

"Look," Tall Guy says, quietly. "I know what's going on. I know what you're feeling. There's nothing stopping you now. All those inhibitions, that little voice that said _don't,_ that's all gone. But you know what's gonna happen, don't you? Carrie probably already called the cops." _(Oh, crap. She should have, she should have run outside and called the cops, and now she can't get to a phone without Dead Eyes seeing her.)_ "Is it really worth spending the rest of your life in jail just to scratch that one little itch?"

"You don't know jack shit about what I'm feeling," Dead Eyes moans. "It's not a fucking itch. It's all I want. It's all I can fucking think about!" 

The gunshot is loud, so loud. Carrie covers her ears and shrieks, but Dead Eyes is yelling and can't hear her. Tall Guy spins to the side and then slams against the wall, clutching his left arm. He stumbles a little but stays upright, leaning on the wall. "Okay," he says, and he really sounds a lot calmer than anyone in this situation should be. "Got it out of your system now?"

Dead Eyes laughs and shoots again, this time hitting Tall Guy in the leg, and now he collapses to his knees. He's grabbing at his leg now, but down by his boot, lower than the gunshot wound. As Dead Eyes looms over him, pointing the gun at his forehead, she sees a flash of metal. Tall Guy whips a knife out of his boot and lunges at Dead Eyes. There's a scream and a gunshot and a lot more screaming, and Carrie realizes it's her. She clamps her hands over her mouth until she can stop, and then runs over to Tall Guy, who's sprawled on the floor with blood on his chest.

"Oh god," she says, pulling away his jacket. "Oh god, oh god." The wound is bleeding heavily, but it's a steady flow, not pulsing. She jumps when Tall Guy grabs her wrist.

"Go check on him," he gasps.

She glances over to Dead Eyes, who has a big-ass knife embedded in his chest and doesn't look like he's going anywhere. "He's dead, I think."

"Crap." Tall Guy says quietly, and yeah, that's an understatement. "Okay. I need you to get me a towel." She hurries into the kitchen, and glares at Dead Eyes' carcass on her way back out. "It's not his fault," Tall Guy says quietly, as she kneels next to him. "Can you fold that up and put pressure on the wound?"

"He fucking shot you," she mutters, putting the towel over his wound and pressing down gently. "How is it not his fault?"

He looks impossibly sad over Dead Eyes' fate. "He lost his soul. It wasn't his fault." Okay, Tall Guy's losing it here, getting a little delirious. Or he's getting religious, and does that mean he's dying? No no no no no. The towel is already soaked in blood and oh, god, don't die, please don't die.

"Listen," she says, "I need to go to the phone. I need to call an ambulance."

"No, wait," he says, and his voice is suddenly very weak, his face so pale. "Mine's in my pocket. Can you get it?" He nods toward his left pocket, and she's suddenly very aware of his arm and leg, also bleeding, and the growing puddle of blood surrounding him, and again she silently pleads, _please don't die._ He winces in pain when she digs the phone out of his pocket, and by the time she's given the dispatcher the address of the coffee shop, he's even more pale, and his lips are turning blue.

"Hey," she says, suddenly desperate to keep him awake. "I'm disappointed. I thought you were checking me out earlier, but you were obviously just reading my nametag. So you know my name but I don't know yours."

"Pink," he mumbles.

"Pink? Your name is Pink?"

He smiles a tiny ghost of a smile. "My name is Sam. Your bra is pink." Suddenly he starts coughing, blood bubbling out of the corner of his mouth. "Need to sit up," he wheezes. "Can't breathe." There's nowhere she can grab him where it won't hurt, so she puts her arms under his and pulls him upright, leaning him against the wall, and tries not to hear his brief cry of pain.

"One more thing," he says, and more blood dribbles out of his mouth as he speaks. "Need you... call my brother." He stops and gasps for breath. "Dean. My phone. Tell him I'm okay. Tell him I'm going to the hospital but I'm okay."

"But you're..." She doesn't want to tell him he's not okay, but she also thinks his brother needs to know how seriously he's been wounded.

"Tell him I'm okay," he says, more firmly. "Don't want him to freak out." He closes his eyes and slumps to the side, and her heart leaps into her throat, but she sees his chest still rising and falling.

She finds the entry for Dean and is relieved when he doesn't answer, because she doesn't really want to talk to the guy. Doesn't want to tell him she's afraid his brother is dying. She leaves a message, tells him his brother's been shot but he's okay, and they're waiting for an ambulance (doesn't say _I'm waiting, I'm not entirely sure he's even going to be alive when I hang up the phone_ ) and he should meet him at the hospital. Then she sits there and quietly presses one hand against Tall Guy's _(Sam, his name is Sam)_ bloody chest wound while she strokes his uninjured arm with the other and tells him he's going to be okay.

When she hears the sirens, she suddenly realizes she forgot something important. She picks up Sam's phone again and leaves another message for Dean. "He saved my life. Tell him I said thank you."


End file.
